Then, Now, and Later
by Won'tSayI'mInLove
Summary: Each is a short chapter on one of the girls, one age per chapter. It will be about their past, present, and future. And you guess who the girl is, cause I'm not gonna say it in the chapter at all. I suck at sumaries but plz just check this story out
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay, so I write a quick chapter about one of the girls for a certain point in their lives (chronologically, of course) BUT I won't tell you who it is! Guess in a review and I'll put up the answer in the next chapter. Kay? Kay.

Her parents were sure that they were in for it when, on her first shopping trip at the Westchester Mall, she refused to go in to GAP or any of the other baby stores. She would only look at the Juicy baby clothes.

When her first word wasn't "NO!" or "Mommy," they were confused. Why was their 3-year-old child marching around the kitchen chanting "RL! RL! RL!" as she waved around her navy blue Juicy Baby Couture velour jacket? Why did she still scream with terror when her mother pushed her stroller into the GAP store? They'd never seen such a young child refuse to try on GAP baby clothes so…_angrily _before.

Her second word came only a few months after her second. "Couture!" the baby would cry, pointing at the glossy window displays of designers such as Luis Vuitton, or Yves St. Laurent, or (most commonly) Ralph Lauren. She would gasp with pleasure at the brightly colored handbag displays.

"A natural-born shopper, eh?" her father would say proudly, running his hands through his jet-black hair. "Oh, she's already set to bankrupt her father before she's even ten years old."

The baby, like her parents, had glossy, wavy black hair and wide brown eyes that flashed with mischief. Her rosebud mouth was usually turned up into a cute little smile as she hugged the Victoria's Secret PINK dog plushie her parents had bought her. She was beautiful, and slightly chubby, yes, but all babies are. What set her apart was her diva-like attitude that came at the young age of three, but would only grow stronger with her age.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So last week was Alicia! Almost everybody who guessed got it right. So was it too easy? Or ok? Too short? R & R, pleeeease! Thanks!

"Mommy, why are they taking our things?" asked the small, 3-year-old child. She was curled up in a clear glass bubble chair that hung from the ceiling by two gold chains. Her amber eyes were narrowed with suspicion as she glared wickedly at the men scampering in and out of her NYC grand apartment. Her pupils flicked back and forth as she watched them. The corner of a _Seventeen _magazine was barely visible from behind a purple satin pillow. The child didn't know that it was fully visible from behind the chair, as it was made of perfectly clear, over-polished glass.

"Sweetheart, we're moving to Westchester! No more silly New York City! No, that's not a good place to raise a little girl. Too many gang fights, too much violence, and there aren't very many good schools," the girl's mother said, shaking her head. Then she smiled sadly. "But I will miss the shopping."

"Mommy, what's our new house like?" The little girl stopped glowering and pulled her legs up to her chest, so her head was resting on her Juicy Couture denim Capri-clad knees. She tipped her head up to look at her mom. The chair swung gently from her movements.

"Oh, it's absolutely enormous! It's all white marble. Very sophisticated, darling. It has a guesthouse, darling, for all your new friends to come and stay in. You can have sleepovers in there. Oh, and you'll have a big barn!"

"A barn? What's that?"

"A barn is where you keep animals, sweetie." She smiled and laughed.

The little girl widened her eyes. "But, Mommy, puppy can't live in a barn!" She frowned. "Puppy lives with me, in my new room!" The child turned to her mom again. "Right?"

"Of course, dear. You know, you ought to name your puppy," she said, leaning forward to pet the puppy. Then she added, "Don't worry, baby. Puppy won't live in the barn. Only big animals, like say, oh, a horse?"

"A horse?" she asked in confusion, petting her small black pug. "We don't have a horse, Mommy!"

"Surprise! We're going to try and get you your very own horse for your birthday, sweetie."

"Ooooh, my very own horse!" The little girl's squeals startled her puppy, which laid its ears flat against its head until the screams stopped.

"You know that it may take a while to find the horse you want, honey." Her mother paused. "So you may not get it for several years."

"MOM!"

"Well, there may be a certain color you want," she tried.

"White."

"Ok, so what if they don't have a white pony?"

"Black."

"Uh…what if they only have brown ponies?"

"Then I'll get a brown one, and maybe it'd have some white on it? But I'd still prefer white."

"Honey, you didn't get that stubborn streak from me."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Last week was Massie. Btw, she doesn't actually move to Westchester in the official series, I just made that up so I could put more details about her in to my FF.

The short, blonde woman leaned over the wood railing surrounding the bed to peer at her daughter. She was fast asleep, her big blue eyes shut and her single lock of blonde hair being blown about by the gentle morning breeze.

The door to the pale-pink-painted bedroom closed softly. The woman turned around, her expression startled, but remained silent. She didn't want to wake her child, who was holding a small lion plushie.

"Sorry," her husband whispered. "Didn't mean to scare you." He looked at his little girl. "Geez, I thought she'd be all over the place! It _is_ her birthday tomorrow."

"No, she's been asleep for some time. Guess she hasn't seen the calendar, huh?" She chuckled quietly, thinking of the big birthday party that was to occur tonight in honor of their child's third birthday.

"Hm, guess not…" He laughed quietly, too. "Wow, bet you when she wakes up she'll be asking about what we got her."

"Nah, she's not that materialistic."

"Honey, she's three. She doesn't even know what _materialistic_ means."

"Hm…."

"Besides, even if she did she'd still ask what we got her. It's a natural kid thing. Everyone wants to know what they got for their birthday."

The little girl stirred in bed. She rubbed her still-closed eyes with her fists sleepily. "Mommy, what did I get for my birthday?" she asked.

"Honey, baby, we haven't even gotten to that yet."

"No presents?" the little girl gasped, her eyes widening with horror.

"No, no, no! We bought you presents, sweetie, but your party isn't till later and your real birthday is tomorrow!"

The little girl considered this. "Oh. Okay," she said, and flopped down peacefully, settling down for more sleep.

"Okay, sweetheart, we'll wake you up at four. Sarah and Sari and coming to say happy birthday and play at five, so you'll need to be up by four."

"Mmph," the baby mumbled.

"Sweetie, are you a tiger?"

"No, mommy."

"Are you a bear?"

"Nope."

"Then what are you?"

"I'm a ." **(A/N: censored so it doesn't give away the answer!)**

"Right. And what do s do?" **(A/N: more censoring!)**

"We sleep," she grumbled under her breath.

"What, sweetheart?"

"We come first on Dorothy's list of fears?" she offered hopefully.

"Not quite…"

"WE ROAR!!!"

"Right, sweetie." She kissed her daughter's forehead.

"Right, mommy, now do I get to sleep?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Last week was Kuh-laire. She was almost 3 yrs old! SO cute.**

A loud scream sent birds flapping away from an enormous mansion, soaring into the cloudless blue sky.

"MOM! MAKE HER GET OUT OF MY ROOM!!!"

The shout made even the girls' mother, who was sitting on the couch downstairs, jump in alarm. She came running up the spiraling staircase towards her oldest daughter's room. "What the hell are you doing?" she demanded as she burst into the room.

Her high school-aged daughter stood there on her cream-colored carpet, one hand on her narrow hip and the other pointing at her sky-blue bedspread. "Make. Her. Get. Off. Of. MY BED!!!" She pronounced each word slowly and carefully, as though talking to a kindergartener.

Her mother turned to the bed, half-expecting to see one of the 9-year-old twins there. Instead she saw…nothing. "What is it, sweetie?"

"Look closer," her eldest daughter said through gritted teeth.

So she did. She saw a strange bowl-shaped puff in the lower right-hand corner. "What the…" She leaned over to get a closer look. There, sleeping angelically, was a tiny figure, curled up into a tiny ball. "Oh, sweetie, it's just your baby sister! Let her sleep."

"WHAT IF _I_ WANT TO SLEEP IN _MY_ BED?" she screeched.

"Fine." She looked down at the sleeping infant, around whose tiny frame the blanket had puffed out. "I'll take her to the nursery. Really, how did she get on your bed?"

Her answer came when two identical heads peeked around the corner of the doorframe. Each freckled face was framed with red curls that matched their blushing cheeks.

"C'mere, girls," their mother beckoned. Seeing them shrink away, she added, "You're not in trouble."

Reluctantly, the two came forward. "She looked so uncomfortable with no blankets and just that thin little mattress in her bed," blurted one.

The other whacked her on the arm. "Stupid carrot head," she hissed at her twin.

"Uh, your hair is red too. Just like the baby's." The first twin giggled, reaching forward to twirl the baby's single lock of hair around her finger lovingly.

"So you put her here, girls?"

"Yes," they chorused.

"I guarantee you, girls, that she's okay in her crib. But you're going to be fine young women, if your already that worried about your sister."

"Sister?" they asked in unison. "Nuh-uh," said one. "Yeah, we put the DOG in here," added the other, pointing at the tiny Cockapoodle (cocker spaniel/poodle mix) puppy that was asleep on the pillow at the head of the bed. "So we had nuh-thing to do with the BABY being here," they added in unison, before both girls turned aoround and skipped out of the room, leaving behind their angry older sister, their sleeping younger sister, and their very confused mother.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Last chappy was Dylan. Wow, I haven't updated in forever…PS I'm not doing them in chronological order anymore cuz I don't really feel like it…XD

These four girls lived for Halloween. They strutted around Six Flags theme park in barely-there miniskirts and tiny tank tops, angel halos floating over their heads. Huge Victoria's Secret Angel-style wings were attached to their backs. Each of them had a set of parents, following them stealthily, but altogether leaving them posse of nine-year-olds alone.

They leader used to be a pretty Spanish girl, but then another brunette had moved to Westchester. She had entranced everyone with her flickering amber eyes and charming smile. Soon, the old alpha was a beta and this newcomer was alpha.

This certain girl was pondering her take over when her three best friends ran off, screaming "ZOMBIES!!!" at the top of their lungs. The girl whirled around, staring at the guys who were coming towards her. She new they were just fat men in cheap costumes, but the dark had a way of messing with peoples' minds. With the full moon overhead and the strobe lights hidden among the bushes, even her precious pug Bean would look scary.

That was all she was thinking as she stared at these so-called "zombies" as they slowly encircled her. She screamed. One of them screamed at her, "Run away, little girl! RUN!!!"

Fatal mistake number one.

Another reached out to grab at her Petit Bateaux tank top. It was already shredded, and the coolness of their hands felt bizarre.

Fatal mistake number two.

One of them reached out. That zombie's hand brushed her hair, messing up her perfect side part.

Fatal mistake number three.

"DON'T TOCH ME, YOU WEIRDOS!!!" She screeched. "HOW DARE YOU TOUCH MY HAIR!!! THIS BLOWOUT COST $250!!! EVEN IF YOUR MONEY HAS BEEN SITTING IN THE BANK ALL THOSE YEARS THAT YOU WERE DEAD, YOU DON'T HAVE ENOUGH TO PAY FOR IT!!!!!!!!!!!!"

She screamed again and kicked one of them in the stomach, punching another in the jaw. "FREAKS!!! CRETIN!!! LOSERS!!!"

The girl bit one, spitting out the gross taste in her mouth afterward. "Guh-ross! There's this little thing called soap! Ever heard of it?"

"ACK!!!" she squealed as more came towards her. She kicked another in the gut with her spike-heel Prada pumps. "GAWD!!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU FREAKS? DON'T YOU KNOW THAT IF YOU'RE LOSING, YOU DON'T COME BACK FOR MORE?"

She ran over to the nearing ride entrance and positioned herself on top of the bar. When they came to surround her, she jumped off, landing on top of some unlucky suckers. She ground her heel in before running off.

Her friends, who were hiding behind some trees in the distance, watched wide-eyed as their alpha kicked some serious butt.

Soon there were several zombies totally knocked out on the ground. There were at least three slinking away, and there was on more stupidly brave one standing in front of her. It reached out to grab her, accidentally brushing her hair.

"HOW DARE YOU!!!!! HAVEN'T YOU LEARNED NOT TO PISS ME OFF?!" she shouted at it before kicking it again. When it doubled over, the thin brunette stomped on its toes (**A/N: remember the spike heels…**) and slapped it square across the face.

Tossing her pink Louis Vuitton purse onto her shoulder, she said, "And that's why you don't fuck with me."

She walked over many of her victims, head held high. She dared to walk down the entire length of one especially unlucky sucker.

"This…is…not…a good…job…" panted one.

"That was one freaky nine year old," croaked another.

"This is not worth ten bucks an hour," panted another softly, before passing out again.

The girl strutted over to her friends. "What?" she said, when she saw their shocked expressions. She was all delicate innocence now. "They _touched _my _hair._"

A/N: this chappy is about the butt-kicking brunette, btw. It's a little hard to tell… 

Luv you too…

MH-chan


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Last chappy was Massie! Yes, she is seriously that kick-butt. Here's another one! (PS: sorry it took so long to update. started a whole bunch of new stories)**

A tiny ten-year-old girl walked into the classroom, eyes wide. She tugged nervously at her dark plaid skirt and sighed.

"Mom," she said impatiently. "You can go." She shook her hand out of her mother's grip.

"Oh, but honey, I haven't even met your teacher!"

"Mom! I'm not a third grader. You can meet my teacher at Back-To-School night." The girl forced her blonde hair behind her ears.

She had a black clip with a tiny black bow that had cartoon-style skull (think Invader Zim) in the middle of it holding back her wispy hair. She also wore a black T-shirt with an ivory skull on it, right across her chest. Her black Converse shoes were scuffed up and dirty. And her blonde hair was both sleek AND messy. She'd spent hours to make it that way, modeling it after the girls in the latest Chanel fashion show.

She was almost shoving her mom out the door. She didn't belong here. Everyone else's moms had dropped them off at the front of the school. Her mom had walked her right into her classroom, oblivious to her daughter's dark red face. She hadn't noticed the other sixth graders snickering behind their palms. Her daughter had.

Her mom wore a sensible white blouse, a pair of black sensible suit pants, and sensible square-toe brown shoes. Her hair was cut in a plain bob with thick bangs that hung just above her eyebrows. If they'd been an inch longer or an inch shorter, they would have looked cool. But they didn't. Her mom was almost too sensible. Sensible and boring…not cool. Further proof that she didn't belong here.

"Fine. I'll go," her mother finally said. "I love you, honey-babe."

"Bye mom," she said pointedly. Then, more quietly, she added, "Love you too."

"Good girl," her mom said, and patted her on the head.

The second her mom was gone, she smoothed out her hair until it was the same perfect mess that it had been. She smoothed her dark skirt again and turned to walk into the classroom to take her seat. The instant she did, a shadow fell over her.

"Excuse me? I think you're in my seat."

"Um, the seats aren't assigned in here." She crinkled her brow as she studied the girl who stood before her. This girl had glossy brown hair, flickering amber eyes lined with chocolate brown eyeliner, and a generically perfect girl on either side. A gold charm bracelet hung on one narrow wrist and a white Chanel purse, with the logo on the side in black, hung off of her other arm. She wore the pale blue platform Lacoste flip flops, the ones that had Swavorski crystals on the straps, that everyone wanted and almost nobody could afford. Her light blue BCBG shirt hugged her tightly and covered the top of her faded distressed denim micromini skirt. That skirt probably violated OCD's dress code a million times over. Not that she'd ever be punished for it.

The girl to her left had glossy black hair and wide brown eyes. She wore a navy Ralph Lauren polo, a pair of True Religion short-shorts, and silver ballet flats. Her chunky silver Tiffany & Co bracelet was the same one that she **(A/N: in this case, that "she" means the main character) **had a fake of at home. It had six silver charms hanging off of it. She had on smoky, gunmetal grey eyeshadow.

The other girl had curly red hair that wasn't at all like the triangles that everyone else's curly hair would have formed. It was sleek, somehow, and each curl was carefully glossed. Her black Lacoste polo hugged her body in all the right places. She had a slightly chubby frame, but she still oozed self-confidence. Her dark denim mini had black lace sticking out from the bottom. Her black flip-flops had the Ralph Lauren symbol on the straps. Her green eyes were lined with black, making them stand out even more.

"Hello? I said, you're _in _my _seat_." The girl stomped one flip flop-clad foot in frustration. "Get. Out!"

"And I said the seats aren't assigned in here."

"Puh-lease! We own this place. We sit wherever we want to. If you don't like it, transfer from OCD." The girl put her hand on her hip. "It's the way it works."

"Given," said the girl with the glossy black hair.

"And who, exactly, are you?" she dared to ask, not moving from her seat.

The girls gave their names, and the leader smiled. "We're known mostly as the Pretty Committee." She smiled beautifully. "Now get out of my seat."

000000

Later that night, she lay there in her black pajamas in her bed, staring at her ceiling. She had never wanted to be someone else before, but now she felt like she wanted to become one of them.

The Pretty Committee. God, even the _name_ was preppy. She sighed and sat up. She tugged away the dark clothes put out on the end of her bed. Then she switched on a light and began to dig through her closet.

Goth Girl was no more.

000000

She strutted into her first period class the next day wearing a black polo, a silver Tiffany & Co necklace, and a pair of dark denim capris. Her eyes had a light dusting of pink eyeshadow instead of their usual mounds of thick, black eyeliner and metallic gray eyeshadow. She'd actually "borrowed" a tube of her mother's MAC lipglass in a frosty pink that, in her opinion, was way too young for her mother. Her silver ballet flats were the only non-black shoes she could find, so she'd worn those too. Her blonde hair had a long black scarf tied in it like a headband, with the long ends trailing over her shoulders with the rest of her hair.

She was preppy.

The Pretty Committee eyed her with interest. The leader, today clad in a pink Lacoste tank top and a pair of Chanel short-shorts, looked at her and smirked. "Hey, New Girl! What happened? Lose a bet?"

"No."

The girl with the red curls leaned forward to study her. "Well. It's an improvement."

"Ah-greed," the other girl said, running a hand through her black hair.

"Um, thanks...?"

"I could never pull of things from _last season_ the way you do," added the leader.

_Last season? _She shook her head. "Um, thanks, I think…"

"Hold on a sec," the leader said, whipping out her phone. She began typing away, as did the rest of the girls.

She looked over at the leader's screen, pushing aside her own blonde hair to look. All she saw was "Do u really think she's worth the trouble?"

She sighed and wondered what that was supposed to mean.

After a moment, the girl with the black hair looked up. "Here's the thing."

The girl with the red curls added, "We've made a decision about you. Understand that this isn't something we usually do. Not all new kids get this chance."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." The leader nodded. "We want you to sit with us for a week. Just to see how it goes. If it goes well, we'll let you have a permanent spot."

_Don't do it! Go make friends with those other girls in the corner. Don't do it! Don't! They're popular, but soulless! Don't! _"Sure," she said, and sat down at the coveted fourth spot in the Pretty Committee's table.

_Don't do it! Get up and go! Scream "PSYCH!" at them and get up and go sit with the other gothy girls over there. Go!_

"This is gonna be fun," the leader said, and crossed her arms as she sat back in her seat.

_Define fun._

**A/N: the italics are the main character's thoughts.**


End file.
